


Welcome to the Family

by buckymyson (trashfinity)



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Fluff, Mentions of miscarriage, Pregnancy, Teen Pregnancy, Wedding, alex was taken in by the washingtons, but also an alex & washington fic, but i'm not american so i don't really care about those, just cuz i'm cool, oh and there are some random OCs that have no significance, so many historical inaccuracies, this is partly a hamliza fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-11
Updated: 2016-07-12
Packaged: 2018-07-23 01:04:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7460559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trashfinity/pseuds/buckymyson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alexander Hamilton goes from no family to a whole lotta family in a few short months</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> pretty much everything is explained in the fic but basically the Washingtons are Alex's foster parents
> 
> my headcanon is that Eliza spends half her time in NY and half her time in Virginia which is how she knows Alex
> 
> I added Eliza's brother Philip in before I knew his age compared to hers so in this he's actually older than she is by two years, instead of ten years younger but I mean it's already fucked up enough who says I can't do this
> 
> disclaimer: i don't own Hamilton
> 
> oh and I have a deleted scene thing I wrote that will be uploaded sometime soon. Just have to edit it a bit.

“Alexander!”

Slumping his shoulders in defeat, Alex stops in his tracks on the stairs. The wood underneath him creaks and moans as he rocks from heel to toe, awaiting the arrival of his foster mother. From his spot near the top of the staircase, he can’t see Martha ascend until she sweeps onto the landing, and it’s only then that he hears a second set of feet pounding the stairs, followed by the appearance of his foster father, George. This is how Alex knows he’s in deep shit.

Now expecting the worst, he breathes in his surroundings; the stale, humid air, the sparse photos of the couple hanging crookedly on the beige walls, the cracks and splinters on the banister, and even the dust particles in the air. This could very well be the last time he’s ever outside of his room for the rest of his life. His foster parents treat him well, but can be quite harsh in their punishments. Once, after getting in a fight with a teacher over the correct use of the oxford comma, Martha grounded him for two days for talking back. (Although thinking back on that, he did call the teacher a “fucking stupid asshat who has feathers for a brain and reeks like a rotten egg shat rancid beef” and the two days he was stuck in his room were actually pretty generous on his parents’ side.)

As the seconds pass and Martha gets closer to Alex’s spot, the nineteen year old starts thinking up excuses for whatever he did. Is “it was Jefferson’s fault?” too believable, since everyone thinks the dumb bastard is a pure delight descended from Heaven? (And it’s total bullshit because he’s a sexist prick who has plans to ruin the country and start the apocalypse solely from his macaroni breath.)

“Alex!” Martha has a slight frown on her face, but her bright eyes are smiling, which absolutely terrifies him. Behind her, George has his usual no-nonsense neutral face, though his lips are slightly upturned. Not enough to call it a smile, but it eases Alex’s nerves a bit. “Do you have something to tell us?”

“Jefferson started it!” Alexander blurts out of habit.

“This isn’t about Thomas,” George says with a shake of his head.

“We received a call about five minutes ago from General Philip Schuyler,” Martha starts knowingly, her frown turning into a smirk.

Alex’s eyes widen, pulse quickening. The beating of his heart grows louder and faster. His mind, running a mile a minute, thinks of every possible reason for why Eliza’s dad would be calling his parents.

“And what did he want?” Alex asks shakily, trying to keep a straight face. Whatever the reason, it can’t be good. Philip Schuyler isn’t exactly the type of guy to call up his daughter’s boyfriend for a friendly chat.

“Son, we know what you did.”

Resisting the chance to correct his foster father (because he’s not their son, no matter how wonderful they are to him, and he doesn’t like delving further into the matters because that brings up abandonment issues Alex would rather not think about), he instead says, “What exactly did I do?”

Martha cocks her head and raises her eyebrow, giving him The Look; the one she uses when she knows that Alex knows what she’s talking about but he’s trying to act dumb. It’s quite a familiar look, because Alex gets into more trouble than he likes to admit. “Mr. Schuyler said that Eliza’s been ill for the past month, and it’s not just the flu.”

Anxiety builds in Alex’s chest, and it takes everything he has not to let it show. His shaking hands get held behind his back, and he squares his shoulders, lifting his head high. Right now, he’s fucking terrified of everything that’s going on; his and Eliza’s predicament, the fact that her father knows, the fact that _his_ parents know, but he’s been acting confident his whole life and Alex refuses to stop now. “Oh? Does she know what it is, then?”

“Alexander,” George starts, shaking his head, “don’t play dumb. We know Eliza’s pregnant.”

“Look, I can explain –“

George holds up his hand, halting Alex’s explanation. “We’re not mad at you.”

“Disappointed, yes. Upset, a little. Let down, sure. But never mad, Alexander.” Martha’s face softens, her scolding eyes and tight lips turning into her normal, warm, loving eyes and a sad smile. “We expected better of you, but people mistakes all the time. You don’t know this, but George and I were almost parents at your age, but I lost the baby four months in.”

“Oh Martha –“

The older woman shakes her head. “No need to apologize dear. You weren’t even alive at the time, and it was so long ago. Now, though, we have you, and I’m so proud that I helped raise you, even if it’s only been for five years.”

At that moment, on the creaky staircase in an old Victorian house that still holds its’ charm and also has surprisingly good wiring that happens to be in _Virginia_ of all places that Alex resented for the first two years of his time there, George and Martha Washington feel like his real parents. No longer are they the people who took him in instead of letting him rot in the system, they’re his _parents._ They love and care for him like he’s not some poor orphan from the Caribbean with abandonment issues and a burning hatred for father figures. He’s their son, as much as they’re his parents. He’s not gonna start calling them Ma and Pops any time soon, but the sentiment is still there.

After a few seconds of staring, Alex jumps down the two steps separating him from his parents and envelopes them in a bear hug. His head ends up between their shoulders, and at some point, he starts crying, tears soaking into Martha’s sweater. And it’s there, on those stairs, that Alex makes a promise to himself to never let them down again.

“I will never be a perfect son. I’m loud and obnoxious and hot-headed and can’t keep quiet to save my own skin. My eighteen year old wife is pregnant with my baby. I’m gonna be a dad at nineteen. I have really shitty genetics and a bunch of problems I should probably deal with. But I’m me, and you guys accept me for who I am and I can’t repay you for anything but I can try but never letting you down again.”

Martha steps down a stair, nearly stepping into her husband as she does so, pulls away from the hug, and furrows her brow. “Did you say wife?”

Scratching the back of his neck with his free arm, Alex blushes, and sheepishly replies, “yes?”

“Do you mean to tell me I missed my only son’s wedding?”

“Technically no, because we didn’t have a wedding. It was just a justice of the peace thing.”

Martha nods. “Good. That means you can have another wedding and invite me this time.”

“Yes ma’am.”

Most people assume that George, having been a General in the military and all, is the one who commands the most respect in the house, but those people are wrong. Martha is the one even George looks to, and everyone obeys her whether they want to or not. So when Martha says Alex has to have another wedding and invite her, it means he’s going to be renewing his vows after a month of marriage, this time in front of a few hundred people. After promising his wife to keep their relationship private – at least until the baby comes.

Martha is the least of Alex’s worries now.

 

* * *

 

 

Even with Martha, Angelica, and Peggy planning the wedding, so much has to be done for “the wedding of the century,” as his mother claims, that the actual ceremony and reception aren’t until Eliza’s eighth month of pregnancy. This causes many problems, as the doctors are concerned that the stress will be bad for the baby, Eliza can’t find a dress that fits the way she likes, and Martha, Angelica, and Peggy are already stressed enough without having to help Eliza buy a dress.

Still, they somehow pull it off, and on a crisp Monday in mid-January, Alex is standing at the end of the aisle, John giving him another pep talk while Hercules flirts with the guests and Lafayette introduces his wife (and Eliza’s third bridesmaid), Adrienne, to Alex’s father. (That makes him want to scream at everyone who calls him dumb for getting married so young, because one of his best friends has been married since he was sixteen and is making things work out just fine.) A sea of people in fancy dresses and fitted suits sit all around, and Alex is very glad they made the rule for the attendees to sit wherever they please, because it makes how terrible Alex’s life was less noticeable.

The organ starts up, the sound of Pachelbel’s Canon resonating in deep tones through the church. John fixes Alex’s bowtie as Angelica steps into the aisle. The role of a proud sister suits her well, and it shows in her smile, which is as wide as her eyes. Peggy joins the eldest Schuyler on the walk to the other end after a few steps, holding onto her five year old sister’s hand as the little girl sprinkles white rose petals over the path.

When the song changes into the traditional wedding march, the crowd collectively stands and turn to the back to watch as Eliza makes her entrance. Holding onto her father’s arm as he smiles warmly, the middle Schuyler looks positively radiant. Her dress, a simple lace garment with long sleeves, a high neckline and a waist high enough to show the baby bump without smothering it, flows gently to the floor. A long train floats behind her, and Alex swears she’s an angel of pure light in that moment.

He still can’t believe that someone like him – someone with a shitty childhood of sickness and abandonment and pure bad luck – gets someone as perfect as Eliza. A kind soul, so trusting and welcoming, Eliza is an angel compared to his demon. When her father gives her away to him, Alex has never felt luckier. Not even when his mother died but he overcame the infection, or when the Washington’s took him, or when he got accepted into Colombia on his grades, not his father’s position in the government.

“Dearly beloved –” The officiant, none other than Eliza’s brother Philip, interrupts Alexander’s thoughts from straying too far by starting the ceremony. However, he too gets interrupted by Eliza when she lets go of Alex’s hand to grab her bump. The guests gasp, and many in attendance rush forward, but George pushes them back.

“Betsey –“

“I’m fine, Alex,” she says, waving her hand in dismissal. “Shall we continue?”

“Eliza –“

“Alexander, I said I’m fine,” she hisses, gritting her teeth. Taking a breath, she recomposes herself and looks at Alex. “They’re just Braxton-hicks. They’ll go away soon.”

Alex, totally unconvinced but in no position to argue, shrugs and motions for Philip to continue on with the ceremony.

“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to celebrate the union of Alexander Hamilton and Elizabeth Schuyler-Hamilton.” He goes on to talk about love and marriage and spouts worthless advice Alex takes to heart until once again, Eliza winces in pain.

“Betsey, I really don’t think those are Braxton-Hicks.”

Eliza shakes her head adamantly. “They’re not real. They can’t be! I’m only eight months. It’s the middle of our wedding! Philip, carry on.”

“Uh, Liza, I agree with Alex,” Philip admits, smiling apologetically.

Turning to his wife, Alex grabs her hands. “Liza, you just had two contractions in the span of five minutes. You really need to go to the hospital.”

Eliza tries to object, but is stopped by a very strong contraction. Alex stands in shock, staring at his wife, unsure of what just happened. Finally, John shakes Alex out of his pre-parental panic attack dream-like state and the two friends get Angelica and Peggy to help Eliza to the car. Alex and John tag along, while the other groomsmen and Adrienne stay behind to inform the guests and direct them to the reception.

(No use wasting good food, not when they spent so much damn money on the whole thing. But Alex doesn’t hesitate to ask multiple times whether or not they could cancel the thing, get a refund, and use their saved money to care for their actual child, which has more need of money than caterers serving a wedding reception where the bride and groom aren’t even present because they are welcoming their child that needs actual things that cost actual money is being born. In the end, they get a refund, but only because Alex was so annoying it was easier to return the money than to kill him, but that’s a conversation for another, not so serious day.)

Martha stops them on the way out, but Alex brushes past her. He doesn’t mean to be rude; he just has things that are more important. Like getting his wife to the hospital so their baby isn’t born in the back seat of a car.

“Alexander,” she says, sounding worried.

“I’ll call you when we get to the hospital!” he yells over his shoulder. “Help Laf direct the guests for now.”

Almost reluctantly, Martha turns and finds the Frenchman while Alex continues to rush around the church, collecting phones and wallets. It takes a while to find Angelica’s phone, so he gives up and heads out to the car with one less object than intended, but his sister-in-law will have to deal with it. His wife is having a baby for god’s sake; she can surely let him off the hook this one time.

Without another glance back, Alex sprints to the car where his wife and friends are waiting. John revs the engine and reverses out of there like a bat out of hell.

This is it. There’s no turning back now, but Alex has no regrets.

“Let’s do this.”

 

* * *

 

Hours later, the four friends are sitting in the waiting room of the hospital, watching for the imminent arrival of the rest of their friends and family. John is lying across four chairs, holding his phone in a risky position a few inches above his face, still trying to turn it on. One shoe is in a plant, the other balanced on top of a water bottle. Angelica is on the ground, her head using a seat as a pillow. Peggy is curled into a ball beside her sister, head on Angelica’s shoulder. John’s tie is around Peggy’s head, while his jacket covers Angelica’s front.

While the three entourage members are as comfy as can be in a hospital waiting room, Alex can’t sit still. His knee resembles that of a young child with ADD in the middle of a history lesson. Absent-mindedly, he twirls the wedding ring on his finger. What if something goes wrong? Sure, Eliza had a natural birth with no complications and they said his son was perfect, but things can still go wrong. He knows they can. John once told him the story of his then-youngest sister, who was perfectly fine for the first two days of her life, but suddenly started circling the drain. What if that happens to his son? He can’t lose his son. He doesn’t even have a name yet. They’d been so busy with the wedding and school to think of anything.

What will they put on the tombstone if he doesn’t have a name?

A nurse approaches, trying and failing to hide a smile. A smile means good news, doesn’t it? “She’s asking for you.”

“Go on,” John prompts, clapping Alex’s shoulder. Somehow, in the twenty seconds between Alex looking away from his friends as the nurse approached, John had given up on his phone and gotten up from the only comfortable position he had found in his entire time in the waiting room. “We’ll be right here.”

“Send Martha in, when she gets here,” Alex instructs over his shoulder. “She’ll want to meet him. George too.”

“Does the title of god-mother mean nothing to you?” Peggy asks, voice muffled by Angelica’s shoulder.

“Grandparents trump godparents any day!”

(It still feels weird to Alex to think of George and Martha as grandparents. A year ago, his foster parents would have been the last ones to meet his child, and probably would have never been called “nana and papa.” Now, Alex has never felt closer to them, and doesn’t want his son to think of them as anything but family.)

The nurse leads him down the hall to a plain pink room with a single window overlooking the parking lot. The curtain separating the two beds in the room is drawn back, as Eliza and the other woman are chatting animatedly. Pink balloons float near the window, all with some variation of “it’s a girl!”. There is not a single doubt that the other couple are proud parents of a daughter. A single black balloon reading “congratulations” sits by Eliza’s bedside, the only decoration on her half of the room. By the time their families have made their rounds, however, there will be more balloons than space too float around.

“Is this him?” the other woman asks, nodding to Alex with a knowing smirk and a waggle of her eyebrows.

Eliza blushes, picking at a loose strand on her blanket. “This is him.”

“Alexander Hamilton,” Alex greets with a shy wave.

“He’s cute.”

“And all mine,” Eliza says, strangely possessive, which is oddly relaxing. Hearing his wife claim him as hers brings relief. If Eliza’s joking around already, things will have to be alright.

“Don’t worry sweetie. He’s much too young for me.”

“I can’t be,” Alex declares. “You’re only, what, twenty-two? I’m nineteen, but my mind is older –“

“That’s enough, dear,” Eliza says, grabbing his hand. As always, she’s the only one able to tame him, and those three words and simple gesture are more than enough to keep Alex silent by her side.

The woman laughs, clearly pleased with Alex’s estimations. “I wish I was still twenty-two. Anyways, I’m Linda, and this is Paul. As I’m sure you can tell, we had a girl.”

“Your first, or . . . ?”

“First biological,” Paul answers. “We adopted our first two from Uganda. They’re currently with their grandmother. Your first too, I presume?”

“First, but hopefully not the last,” Eliza replies, smiling hopefully at Alex.

“George and Martha will be happy to hear that.”

“His parents,” Eliza explains at the other couple’s confused expression.

And Alex, for the first time in his life, doesn’t feel the urge to correct her about it. They’re not his foster parents anymore. George and Martha Washington are his real parents whether any of them like it or not.

“What will we be happy to hear?”

The looming presence of George Washington appears in the doorway, tall and confident. Alex fondly remembers a time the man’s stature terrified him, but now it’s a pleasant sight. No more is he that lonely young boy, still reeking of death and misery, hiding from this strange and scary man with a look sharp enough to kill an entire army. Instead, he’s a slightly more mature young adult, ripe with pure joy, embracing the aforementioned scary man in a warm hug. Oh, how things can change in only five years.

“That we plan on providing you with more grandchildren than you can count,” Eliza says, pushing herself up to sit more comfortably. Alex rushes to help like the doting and hovering husband he’s been since he first found out about her pregnancy, grabbing her arm to help stabilize her weakened body.

It’s very slight, but a hint of a grin can be seen on George’s face, where the usual frown lines are slightly upturned, and there’s a mirth in his eyes that is quite often hidden behind his hard exterior. Alex hasn’t seen his father this happy since he graduated high school with top honors.

(If Alex had known George before, however, he would know that since he arrived from the island, the General’s face as gotten softer, and his eyes warmer. He’d know that his arrival, five full years ago, hasn’t stopped making George happy.)

“That will make me very happy indeed.”

A nurse pushes her way past George, Alex’s son in the bassinet she’s pulling in. Martha follows her into the room, moving towards her husband, looking just as happy as Alex expected. The bridesmaids and groomsmen are standing in the doorway, and Alex catches a glimpse of Eliza’s family behind them.

Reaching out her arms, Eliza beckons for the nurse to pass their son to her. She settles him in her arms, cooing softly. Alex sits beside her, one arm around her shoulder while the other supports his son.

“Everyone, we would like you to meet our son: Philip George Hamilton.”

Looking around the room, his wife and son in his arms and family so close by, Alex smiles.

This is his family. George and Martha are his parents as much as Philip is his son. Peggy and Angelica are better siblings than his brother ever was, and John, Lafayette, and Hercules are the best brothers – biological or not – that he’s ever had.

“Welcome to the family, Philip,” Alex whispers, trying out the name for the first time. Eliza must have decided earlier, but he doesn’t mind, because it’s the perfect name for the perfect son. “We’re glad you’re here.”


	2. Deleted Scene

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the drive to the hospital ft Alex, Eliza, John, Angelica, and Peggy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is the deleted scene I mentioned before
> 
> it makes no sense but I liked it so
> 
> when I started writing this fic, I wrote the first bit before the wedding, then the wedding, then this scene, and then the final scene, so it was all over the place. Since this didn't really fit with my whole plan, I took it out and made it a deleted scene. It kind of ends abruptly, but it was supposed to flow into the rest of the fic, and I don't really have a way of ending it without adding the rest of the first chapter so *shrug*
> 
> oh and fun fact, Peggy's husband irl was six years younger, but that would make him 10 in this so I made him a month younger
> 
> disclaimer: I dont own Hamilton

“Where’s my phone?” Angelica demands when Alex gets into the seat beside Eliza and hands everyone else their electronic devices.

“I couldn’t find it,” Alex explains with a shrug. “How’re you doing, Betsey?”

“I’d be better if I didn’t have a baby trying to push its way out of my vagina right now!” she seethes, squeezing his hand tightly and making him wince.

“Why don’t I have my fucking phone?” Angelica asks again.

“Because I couldn’t fucking find it! Now can we please leave before my son is born in the backseat of this disgusting car?!”

“I will shove you into oncoming traffic if you insult my car again!” John threatens.

“How is it difficult to find a phone? You can just call it!”

“I did but I didn’t hear it and _my wife is in labor right now do you really think I wanted to waste my time searching for your fucking phone?!”_ Alex yells. The whole car grows silent, the only sounds Eliza’s pained groans every now and again and Peggy’s excited noises from the passenger seat when she passes a level in Candy Crush.

“Oh shit!” Peggy curses, looking up from her game. “I was supposed to meet Stephen for coffee today!”

“Today? On my _wedding day_?” Eliza asks harshly.

“What, like you wouldn’t skip your sister’s wedding to hang with your boyfriend,” says Peggy with a roll of her eyes. Shuffling the bags in the front seat, she drops her feet from the dashboard and sits up, turning to face her sisters in the back.

Angelica scoffs. “Isn’t he twelve?”

“He’s only a month younger than me!” Peggy informs them, but everyone is already making jokes about her dating a younger man. “I hate you all.”

And then, as if things aren’t bad enough with a laboring Eliza, angry Angelica, upset Peggy, and terrified Alex, the car slows to a dead stop and doesn’t move an inch for two minutes.

“No,” Alex exclaims, a terrible realization dawning on him as he stares into the depths of hell known as traffic stalled in front of them, extending up the on-ramp to the highway for a mile. “No, no, no, no, no!”

“Well, it’s a good thing I am going to become a doctor,” says John matter-of-factly, “because there is a chance Eliza will be having this baby in the back of my disgusting car.”

To add insult to injury, Eliza’s water breaks, spilling her “womb water” as Alex calls it all over the backseat of the car. Lucky for Eliza, Peggy and Angelia had gotten her out of her dress before they left, and she only ruins a pair of ragged sweat pants that may belong to Alex. It’s unlucky for John, however, as his disgusting car just gets worse.

“Well, hey, at least you’re going to become a doctor, because then you’ll have enough money to get a new car,” Peggy mocks, moving around to get back into her original (and very unsafe) position of her feet on the dashboard.

“Can the talk of new cars wait until we get to the hospital? Because I do _not_ want my son to be born in this shit pit.”

“I can’t just drive around everyone!”

“Angelica can yell at them until they move, and then you gun it to the hospital. Problem solved,” Peggy suggests with a shrug, fingers slicing across her phone screen.

“John, how good are you at driving?” Angelica questions, leaning over Eliza to talk to him.

“I passed the test the first time, if that’s what you’re asking.”

Angelica nods. “Back up into the left hand turn lane, do a U-turn and go to Van Rensselaer Memorial,” she orders.

John gawks at her through the rear-view mirror. “What the fuck are you thinking?”

“I’m _thinking_ that I don’t want to help deliver my god-child in the back of this car!”

“Wait, why does that name sound familiar?” Alex asks, furrowing his brow.

Peggy rolls her eyes. “Because it’s my boyfriend’s hospital, asshat.”

“Isn’t he twelve?”

“Fuck you, Alexander.”

“Your bickering isn’t helping get this goddamn child out of me!” yells Eliza, clearly aggravated. “John, just back the fuck up and take us to the twelve-year old’s fucking hospit – oh, fuck!” A contraction hits Eliza hard, and she squeezes the feeling out of Alex’s hand. John, seeing his best friend’s pained expression and the anger in Eliza’s eyes, reverses out of there like a bat out of hell, and as Peggy suggested before, guns it.

“If we die or get arrested, I’m blaming you, Alex!” John yells as he turns a sharp corner.

“Why me?”

“Because if you hadn’t knocked our sister up,” Angelica exclaims,” we wouldn’t be in this situation!”

“What, so it’s my fault?”

“YES!” they all scream as John takes yet another sharp turn.

“Well fuck you guys. I revoke your rights as god-parents,” Alex proclaims with a ‘humph’.

That’ll show ‘em.

 

 

“Shit, my phone’s dead,” John says, clicking the home button frantically.

“Same here,” Peggy says, shaking the device as if it will magically turn on.

“And mine is broken courtesy of my darling wife,” Alex sighs, remembering the tragic event only a few short hours earlier. His phone, screen cracked into tiny pieces, died a horrific death during one of Eliza’s last and most painful contractions. Alex, in the middle of updating Lafayette on their current status, momentarily forgot that his wife was in pain, and faced her wrath when a contraction hit and her hand, not being able to crush anyone else’s swiped at the nearest thing. That thing happened to be Alex’s phone.

“Bet you wish you’d taken those two extra minutes to find mine now,” Angelica says, picking at her nails.

“Oh fuck off.”


End file.
